


Status Quo

by AifasInTheSky



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half-Life VR but the AI is Self-Aware - Fandom
Genre: (I know I did), (actually everyone's there except gman but I don't wanna clutter on everyone's tags), (the enemies to friends flies past so quick you might miss it dskjfsdj), (this is such a bad attempt at a slowburn), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26507053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AifasInTheSky/pseuds/AifasInTheSky
Summary: Gordon struggles with breaking the status quo he created himself.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 20
Kudos: 168





	Status Quo

His name was Gordon Freeman, he was twenty-nine years-old, and he had a problem.

At twenty-seven years-old, he’d been part of probably the most catastrophic event in the recent history of humanity. Not that most people seemed to have realized, however—the power of the government scared him, sometimes. But it was mostly the hush money he was given what actually kept his mouth shut about the whole Black Mesa business.

It wasn’t that, however, what made him let inside his worst enemy. Or who at the moment he thought was it.

(He wasn’t. It seemed, as Dr. Coomer bluntly pointed at him, he was conceited enough to think that real people have mortal enemies. Well, he’d always had a bit of a hero complex; could you blame him, though?)

It was a mixture of pity and guilt and something he really didn’t want to think about at the moment that made him push the door open for the soaking wet security guard—was he even one right then? Had he ever been? Gordon might’ve gotten a bit lost in thought, but not enough not to notice how Benrey was hovering next to the couch, ready to sit on it, water and everything.

He shouted at him to stop.

And he actually listened.

That had been the first thing that threw him off at the moment—Benrey being cooperative had been incredibly odd in Black Mesa. He was an entity of chaos; he did his own thing and it might or not coincide with what they all were doing at the moment. Alright, to be fair, everyone was a bit prone to chaos in the Science Team. But Benrey had taken it even further, becoming “the bad guy,” as he’d said.

Benrey held on until he brought a towel and gave it to him, pushing him towards the bathroom with a change of clothes. Which, in the end, were a bit short for him—Benrey was tall and lean, though not less strong for it. He could see his muscles clench as he opened and closed his fists, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

Gordon decided to cut the crap. He couldn’t bear a hesitant Benrey. It made him feel things. Bad things.

He rummaged in a cabinet and pulled out a Nintendo 64 from a dusty box—it’s not as if he’d had time after the imminent apocalypse to just chill. Or, well, mostly he hadn’t been able to.

(He’d gone and opened the cabinet and stared at the box many a time. Remembering a person he thought long dead. Not bearing to touch it in case he’d get emotional or something.)

(In a way, it had been waiting for him.)

“Catch,” he’d said, and thrown one of the remotes at Benrey. He’d deadpanned, and the control fell on the couch, and Gordon could’ve laughed at the contrariety in Benrey’s voice when he said:

“Not your dog, Feetman.”

“I know, sorry. But wanna play some Mario Kart?”

Benrey had blinked, then grinned.

“You’re on.”

\-----

And things had gone back to normal.

Well, mostly.

Benrey stayed. And though he didn’t obey every single one of Gordon’s rules—“No toothbrushes in the shower!”—he was pretty helpful at home.

At least when he learned to cook. Which he took on learning pretty earnestly at the prospect of being able to eat whatever he wanted when he wanted—and the ingredients were available. Gordon told him he’d not make quick runs every time Benrey wanted to try a new recipe. He did most of the time, anyways.

It also helped him, having something to do when nightmares would strike. It helped Gordon with his too.

(That was the second thing that struck him as odd—Benrey’s proneness to nightmares. He hadn’t known he even slept, as Benrey had always insisted that he didn’t need to. But he did, and it seemed it was as rough for him as for Gordon, judging by the way he tossed and turned on the couch in his sleep. He felt partly guilty of that.)

Gordon had thought he’d miss their late-at-night cooking sessions once Benrey learned how to cook. But they never stopped. It became a common occurrence to wake to the smell of something delicious, to go to the kitchen and rest a hand on a tired shoulder and watch, point to the forgotten basil, nod in approval.

Gordon took care of the dishes and the shopping, as Benrey was a bit prone to scratching the glass dishes when deep in thought, and Gordon had a better memory and a penchant for lists just in case. He didn’t mind at all.

\-----

One day, Gordon was asked about his son.

“Ah, Joshie…” He laughed nervously. “I haven’t been able to see him for a while.”

“Whuh? Why?”

“It’s just… After Black Mesa, things were tough, y’know? And then… There was you too.” Benrey tensed. “Not that it was a bad thing! Sorry, man. But I’ve been trying to… get my things in order. Before he comes in. Yeah.”

Benrey looked at him, eyes wide.

“I promise… uhh… not to diss on your shitty son. Regular son. Sorry.”

Gordon laughed at the correction. “It’s alright. Thank you.” He elbowed Benrey. “I think Joshie would be happy to eat one of your meals.”

Benrey smiled, looking away. And it did something to Gordon’s insides that he decided not to think of right then.

\-----

One night, they fell asleep on the couch.

It was the best night both of them had, as awkward as the morning had been. Gordon didn’t want to think too much about it. But if his hypothesis was correct, close contact made the nightmares stay at bay. Huh.

After that night, though, there wasn’t even need to talk about it. Benrey came to his room and plopped down in his bed, hugging him—how well he fit against him went unsaid—and they slept soundly—comfortably, warmly—until the next morning.

And the next morning. And the next.

Sometimes the nightmares came back. But they knew where to find each other. The only difference in their old routine being that one dragged the other off the kitchen when they were finished eating or saving the food for later, both heading to bed again to snuggle in the covers close together.

The whispered reassurances of “Everything will be alright” didn’t come amiss, either.

\-----

Gordon had been right, Joshie loved his meals.

Benrey had practiced making pancakes for a whole month before Joshie first came home. The tests had varied in results, and they’d ended many times in incredible messes—“Benrey, how did you get mix over the fridge?!” But the results had been amazing, in the end, as Gordon had made sure to let him know.

And Joshie too.

“They’re just like dad’s!” he said, munching happily one of his chocolate-chip pancakes. Benrey had blushed—blushed!—and looked at Gordon. Gordon smiled encouragingly, and Benrey went beet red.

“Thanks, little bro,” he said, letting some white and pink orbs escape his lips. Joshie clapped at the sight, mesmerized.

“So pretty!”

Gordon watched, smile widening as Benrey did a colorful show for his amazed son. Yeah, they really were beautiful. He’d always been caught by how lovely the Sweet Voice was, both in color and in tune.

He wanted to see it more often.

\-----

Gordon started finding excuses for making Benrey use his Sweet Voice. Sometimes he downright asked; Benrey loved using the Sweet Voice for Joshie, and he used that to his advantage.

Sometimes he just surprised him.

He took to wrapping his arms around Benrey from behind when he was cooking, startling a few white and pink orbs out of him. He threw a Bob-omb at him all of a sudden when they were playing Mario Kart, which made him spout irritated red-tinted orbs. He pecked the back of his head when they were about to sleep, making him jump and blurt some pink to blue orbs.

Benrey looked at him oddly more than once, to what he shrugged and grinned. “What, can’t take a little gay?” He told him in one occassion.

And Benrey had put on a deadpan face, cheeks pink, and eyes screaming, “You’re on, Freeman.”

It’s not that Gordon had been unaffected by it all, but when Benrey started to _reciprocate_ , that was when he couldn’t deny it anymore.

Things had gotten way out of hand. They needed to back off, before either of them did something they’d both regret—and oh, wow, wasn’t that a surprise? He didn’t want to lose Benrey’s easy friendship. But the thing was, Gordon didn’t want to go back to how things were.

He was _fucked._

“What, can’t take a little gay?” Benrey grinned against the skin of his neck, giving it light pecks as Gordon struggled not to throw the pan away and smother Benrey with kisses.

“Sh-shut up,” he said, berating his voice and his wobbly knees. Goddamnit, he was so weak.

Benrey’s hands wandered to his stomach, and he couldn’t deal with it anymore. He left the pan in the stove, turned around and pushed Benrey towards the opposite wall, trapping him there.

“O-oh?” Benrey asked, wide eyes betraying the actual nervousness behind his smirk. Gordon was too fired up to care.

He bit on Benrey’s lower lip and worked on it so earnestly that it ended up beet red. He then licked over both of them and soon the kiss deepened. His right hand was fisted on Benrey’s shirt, and his left was supporting all his weight against the wall. Benrey’s hands came to rest on Gordon’s cheeks, and he felt like he was in Heaven.

Until the smell of smoke surfaced.

“Oh, shit!” he yelled, disengaging from Benrey to go check on his absolutely burnt sauce. Oh, God, oh, fuck. What had he done? He practically ravished Benrey against that wall. There’s no way things would go back to normal after that.

“Feetman?”

A hand in his shoulder made him flinch and turn around. Benrey looked at him, eyes neutral. “It’ s alright,” Gordon said, commanding his voice to be steady—and failing. “I can make another.”

“Uhh… Feetman, chill. We can uhh… forget—”

“No!” He yelled, startling both of them. The smell of smoke still filled his senses, making a poor distraction from what was going on. “I… liked it. Loved it.” He felt his cheeks warm up. “I just… I don’t want us to lose what we had before, you know?”

Benrey seemed pensive.

“We can be, uhh… Bros with benefits?”

Gordon’s mind stopped working. Was that an option? Right! That’s true!

“Benrey,” he laughed, all his anxiety seeping through. “You’re a genius.”

(If Benrey’s eyes looked sad, it didn’t stay too long in his memory.)

Problem fixed! He’d keep his friendship with Benrey and they’d be able to be as touchy as they wanted.

He just didn’t have to grow even fonder of him.

\-----

The thing was, it was really easy to grow fond of Benrey.

Two years had passed since the Black Mesa incident, and Gordon, now twenty-nine, was a pining idiot.

‘How to tell your not-so-platonic, friends-with-benefits roommate that you want a relationship with them?’ he typed on Yahoo Answers. Yes, at that point he was that desperate.

An answer popped up quickly. ‘You’re an idiot,’ it said.

Great, now the internet was laughing at him too.

Another came up. ‘Just be open with them! Maybe you’re on the same page.’

He gulped. He wasn’t really sure. Benrey had never once mentioned wanting anything else, and it’d been two years. Two years!

(There was that time, though, at Gordon’s twenty-eighth birthday, when he’d looked at the candles as if wishing on them too, and then looked at him with an intensity that almost made him choke on air. Or that time after they decided to go to a bar and Gordon’d gotten drunk—he vaguely remembered lots of kisses and promises he’d thought he’d dreamed.)

(Or the many, many times Benrey told him he loved him. But they’d been so casually said he’d paid them no mind.)

“Dad, what are you doing?”

He jumped at least a couple of inches off the chair and almost fell to the floor, hands scrambling to close the Yahoo Answers tab. Joshie, unfortunately, was a fast reader.

“Dad, is this about papa?”

Gordon wondered for a moment when had Joshie started to call Benrey “papa”. It’d been at some point during their first year… Well, not together, but… You’d know what he meant. Maybe after that time Benrey stood up for him in front of his teacher? Or was it after he made Joshie’s favorite cake the day he won the spelling bee competence? Or maybe it just happened, like everything seemed to these days, slipping past Gordon, right under his nose.

“Uhh… I was looking at advice for a friend,” he said, unconvincingly even to himself. Joshie was becoming better spotting Gordon’s bluffs with each passing day. Damn it.

“Dad, you know papa loves you, right?”

His heart ached at the sincerity in his kid’s words. “I know, Joshie. But it isn’t that easy.”

Joshie puffed his cheeks. “Isn’t it?” He walked off, the room. But soon his head popped in again, dead serious. “You’re going to hurt someone if you aren’t careful, dad.”

As Joshie went away, Gordon stared at the empty screen of his computer.

Fuck.

\-----

Gordon decided to wander around the shopping center before going back home—his groceries weren’t that many today, which was the reason why he went by foot instead of taking the car.

(Benrey always searched for excuses to get in the car. He loved messing with the radio and poking fun at his driving. The vibrations of the car seemed to eventually calm him, though, and he’d had to carry a dead asleep Benrey many times, to Joshie’s amusement.)

(Benrey also loved doing other things on the car. But that was another story.)

He passed by a ring shop and slowly came to a stop.

He remembered going ring shopping with Marie a long time ago—it seemed like another life, after everything. He’d complained about the fact there were so many designs—and so showy! Marie had elbowed him many times to shut him up in the middle of their quest. He still thought many of the designs were too flashy, but he could admit by then that most of his annoyance had been misdirected.

His gaze rested on a simple band with an electric blue stone. That’d be the best he could get, he supposed. Unless they made custom ones. He was sure Benrey would insist on creating “the best gamer design ever, Freeman, gotta be a proud gamer or no gamer at all.” He chuckled.

Then his mind came to a stop.

What was he doing?! One thing was admitting he had feelings for Benrey, and another was getting _married_ to him. Oh, God. And he hadn’t even done the first one to his face. He hit his head against the glass with a soft thunk. He was a failure.

“Sir, please don’t hit the glass.”

He backed off, mortified. “Sorry!” he yelled, and ran away, hands empty.

“Your groceries, sir!”

\-----

“Tommy.”

“Yes, Mr. Freeman?”

“Can I ask you something about the Sweet Voice?”

He didn’t know why he never asked Tommy what Benrey’s most usual bouts of Sweet Voice meant. Well, he actually did: he’d never wanted to face what they might mean.

At that moment, that was not the case. He needed reassurance. He needed confirmation of the fact he was probably the most stupid man on Earth.

“Why… Why do you want to know, Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked, suspicious.

Gordon gulped. “I…” He looked around. Benrey was distracted, playing with Sunkist and Darnold as Dr. Coomer and Bubby set the barbecue on. “Alright. I just need to confirm something, you know?”

Tommy looked at him, disappointment in his gaze. “You don’t… you don’t need to know how to read the Sweet Voice to… to know that. You… You already know, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon’s heart did a sommersault. “Are you… Are you sure?”

“Mr. Freeman, I won’t betray one of my best friends’ trust. But I also… I don’t want to see him hurt. Please, think on what you’ll do.”

Gordon’s hands clenched. “I am, though. I’ve been doing nothing but thinking this last year! Maybe even longer!” Not with the intensity his thoughts have been kicking him these last few months, but the idea had been there, nagging at him for longer than he could then remember. “I got into this because I didn’t want to jeopardize what we had, and now I’m about to throw it all away just for wanting more!”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Mr. Freeman… Are you getting married?”

Gordon backsetepped. “What? No! We aren’t even dating, Tommy!”

Tommy blanched. “Aren’t you?” He was reminded of Joshie’s incredulity that morning in front of the computer. “Mr. Freeman, he’s… He’s practically a father for your son. You sleep together. You hold hands. You kiss. You support each other. What else do you need to do to date?”

“I dunno, man, explicit confirmation? Last thing Benrey suggested to me was being friends with benefits.”

Tommy looks surprised, then sad. “Mr. Freeman… What did you do?”

“Me?” He puts his hands in his hips. “Why me?”

“Mr. Freeman, please. You need to talk. Maybe you’re both in the same page.”

The words echoed in his head once again. He watched Benrey be held onto the grass by Sunkist, who barked happily at him as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Benrey looked at him, a happy grin on his face.

He turned away and went to the bathroom to collect himself.

\-----

It’s not like Gordon had never told him he loved him. He’d said it as responses to jokes; he’d said it when they were in the middle of… Ahem. He’d said it jokingly, affectionately, sincerely; in so many different ways… And they were still at square one.

He really didn’t know what to do.

“Uhh… Bro? Are you gonna eat your pancakes or what?”

He looked up from his untouched pancakes. Benrey was staring at him, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He squinted.

“What did you do to them?”

Benrey deadpanned. “Nothing, bro. I just, uhh… experimented with the flavor mix a bit. Wanna see if it’s a pass or a no-no.”

It’s true, he thought. Benrey had been in the kitchen more often these last nights. Gordon hadn’t got up because he’d been gently pushed into the bed with a “No need, bro” and a kiss in the forehead. Also, he’d been pretty tired, considering all the extra stress he’d been under lately.

He shrugged, then bit on two of the pancakes. Huh, they were apple-flavored. Interesting. And they had cinnamon in them too!

“Huh, these are great, dude!” He took another bite. And another—

Ouch!

“What the—”

He spat something hard and… He froze. He knew that shape. A ring sat in his hand, its orange stone glinting in the light of the morning—and probably also due to his own spit. He stared at it. Stared some more.

“Uhh… Bro?” He looked up. Benrey was looking at him, now visibly anxious. “Please say something, Feetman.”

“I… This is what I think it is, isn’t it?”

“Uhh… I dunno.” Benrey said, looking away. “It can be whatever. Your choice.”

He looked inside the ring. Engraved in it, it said, “Be my Player Number Two, pretty please.”

He teared up.

All those months of worrying, and it was always Benrey who gave the step forward. And Benrey always gave him the choice to stall, to keep things going as they were. But no, not that day.

That day, Gordon would give a step forward and meet him there.

He stood up, walked up at Benrey and gave him a tight hug, crying onto his shoulder.

“Uhh… Please, don’t cry, please? I’ll take it back to the store—”

Gordon shushed him. “Wait a sec. I’m so goddamn—” He felt Benrey’s arms wrap around him hesitantly. “Thank you. Yes, Benrey. Yes.”

“Uhh… Yes to the store or yes to—”

“The ring, man. I want to be with you.” He separated from him just enough to be able to look at his face. “I didn’t know how to tell you—”

“Me either,” Benrey said, grinning, little yellow and pink and blue orbs escaping his mouth.

He laughed, and wiped the ring on his shirt. He put it on, both of them looking at it, mesmerized. “Woah.”

“Yeah. Uhh… Epic win.”

Gordon smirked at him, eyes still shiny. “I know where the perfect match for this one is.”

Benrey’s eyes looked pretty moist themselves.

\-----

“You are both idiots, you know that?”

“Come on, are you ever going to let us live this down?”

“Nope, Mr. Freeman!” Tommy said, finishing his can of soda and crushing it with his fist. Holy shit. The sight didn’t become any less odd with the passing of time.

Forzen looked at Benrey’s outfit. “Good choice.”

“Right?” Benrey preened. He had a shirt with one of the little yellow boxes from Mario surrounded by praise to it. It was Gordon’s, and Gordon loved it to bits. He also loved how it looked on his—holy shit—his fiancé.

Their monthly arcade meeting was something that they’d never stop doing. Everyone’s love for games made the arcade near Darnold’s apartment the perfect meeting choice. Dr. Coomer always went for the Super Punch-Out!! machines with Bubby in tow. Tommy loved The House of the Dead, and could always be found at the shooting machines with Forzen and Darnold, taking turns.

Benrey and Gordon always made a competition out of everything. They tried their hands at the new machines that came occasionally; otherwise, they played Metal Slug, Pac-Man, Street Fighter… Everything they could play in pairs, they did, and oh, boy, did they make a good pair at it—they had so much practice, after all.

When the Dancing Stage machines arrived, hell had broken.

They were, surprisingly, still allowed to use them after that incident. So that was the first game they headed over to, ready to settle an argument they’d been having the entire week.

“You’ll see. I’m gonna outshine everyone with my sick moves in the wedding.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. Even you, Feetman.”

“Oh, you’re on. If you can beat me in Dancing Stage, two out of three, I’ll drop it. But you have two left feet, dude.”

That was a blatant lie. Gordon had seen Benrey dance many a time, and he had a good grasp on what his body could and couldn’t do. And it could do quite a lot, it seemed. But he wouldn’t bend, not in that!

The music started.

Gordon tried to concentrate, but the glint of the blue stone in Benrey’s ring kept calling attention to it. He almost couldn’t believe they’d got at that point. And the most important thing was: they were happy. They were! And he couldn’t envision a life without Benrey in it anymore.

(Maybe he never could. Maybe that’s why he was so heartbroken at the end of the Black Mesa incident.)

“You’re lo-osing!” Benrey sing-sung.

Fuck! Looking back at the screen, he got so surprised at the influx of arrows that he tripped and fell to the side. Benrey hurried and grabbed him by the left arm, hugging him close.

Both stayed like that, gazing into each other’s eyes as their surprise turned into fondness, until they heard Bubby yell, “You both lose, idiots!” They looked back at their games only to find them finished, both having missed more than half the arrows.

Benrey, however, had won that round.

“Two out of three!” Gordon yelled, and readied himself for the next round. Benrey smirked, and pressed Start.

They still had a lot of things to run over. They still hadn’t picked a place, or the food, and there'd be lots of arguments over it. Also, they had to pick Joshie up from school this week, and they still hadn’t decided on a meal for when they arrived.

His name was Gordon Freeman, he was almost thirty years-old, and he had the opposite of a problem.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, er... a clusterfuck.
> 
> I say it because I just sat and wrote. And wrote. And wrote. And edited a little after some advice I got on Discord (which thank you again! It helped a lot). But mostly I didn't check for text structure, or parallels, and I hope I didn't leave any loose end. I'm becoming careless in my old age /j. 
> 
> (Maybe it's the meds. Maybe it's that I'm emotional right now and I just needed to write resolved pining.)
> 
> Also I dunno if it's M but for the few references I make I'd rather be safe than sorry.
> 
> Er... Translations for the Sweet Voice... White is "I'm embarrassed" (I had a rhyme there but I forgot it rip), and with a tinge of pink it's more of a happy/fond embarrassment. Pink and blue is "I love you" and yellow is "I'm a happy fellow!"
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! ♥
> 
> By the way, this is the shirt Benrey's using: [[Link]](https://teespring.com/en-GB/gamer-shirt-2410)
> 
> Also, check my Tumblr [@aifastic](https://aifastic.tumblr.com/) (I'm taking fic requests and stuff! It's a bit buried but there it is) and my Listography [[Link]](https://listography.com/aifastic) for more info on what I'm working on at the moment! (And more places you can find me in)


End file.
